The Rivalry
by PseudonymousEntity
Summary: "In the wrong hands the truth becomes a weapon." Intelligent!Harry. Observant!Draco. Being a fourteen-year-old wizard was tough enough without facing rumours, harsh realities, broken friendships and the approaching TriWizard Tournament. Magical experiments. Spell-crafting. Improper use of invisibility cloaks. Competitiveness.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have a legendary rivalry.

_Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy._

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

**AN:** I have no idea what category to put this in for genre. If there were slots for 'dark humour' and 'questionable' it would probably go in those. Let me know as we go along where you think it might fit best.

**-Pseu**

* * *

><p><em>All the lies you hide behind<em>

_I see right through you, see right through you_

_Paint it on, cover every inch, a__ny flaw will expose your weakness_

_I see the enemy, the hypocrisy_

_Secrets pouring out, castles falling down_

_There's nothing to hide behind_

_I see right through you_

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy's entire world revolved around knowing things other people didn't. It gave him security nothing else could quite match. He knew who was speaking with whom, he knew who did best or worst at which subjects. He knew family lines, blood status, betrothal contracts, sometimes he knew things before the involved parties knew it themselves. This is what made him a contender in Slytherin, but not what made him dangerous. He was the Prince and future King of Slytherin because he saw the things everyone else missed. Draco saw saw weaknesses. He saw slips in masks, he memorized hand gestures and habits and he saw when people had something to hide. It was these two skills together that made him the undisputed prodigy in Slytherin, for there was only one other person in it's history that was named Prince in first year, and only two others that held the Prince title with no rivals in their third year. His father was one of them.<p>

He was a Legacy. A cold, marble icon walking among boot licking lower families who clamored over one another to earn his favor. He disliked them all. But that was neither here nor there. Draco was a Slytherin, he wasn't here for friends. He was here for connections. And the sort of person he was could hardly afford friends anyway.

He had rivals outside of Slytherin though. Two. Potter and the Weasel. Weasel was more of a ginger haired nuisance who was unfortunately turning out to be rather broad shouldered and strong. A dangerous nuisance physically, in comparison to Draco's own, sleek form. Then there was Potter.

His favorite past time. His hobby. His future archenemy if the rumours were true, and it'd be nice if they were. He certainly wouldn't mind becoming the next Dark Lord and facing off against Potter as the new Light Lord. Would be fitting, actually. Because there was no one else in this school who could give either of them a run for their money the way the other could. Sure Nott and Granger were the top of their classes. But regurgitating facts hardly counted as intelligence, and being a bookworm was nothing compared to skill.

And Potter was skilled. Sometimes it took of his self control not to grin maniacally when the messy haired boy was called on to demonstrate a spell in class. The air practically burned and smoked afterward, such was his raw power. It was fantastic. He thoroughly enjoyed watching Potter and the Weasel when they weren't getting on. The tall hot headed boy would say something undoubtedly stupid, tact was not one of his skills, and Potter would send him spinning into the wall. CRUNCH.

Draco practically salivated in those moments. Because the only other time Potter had that look in his eyes, the only other time his power rang out like that, was when he was fighting Draco himself. You could say the Slytherin was addicted to the feeling. That immediate sense of a worthy opponent, of danger and darkness and all the things Potter pretended not to be. But Draco knew the truth.

After all, he saw things other people didn't see.

The flash of red coming through the usually emerald green eyes hidden behind hideous spectacles. The tightening of his jaw and the mostly hidden smirk whenever he and Draco got in a confrontation. The desire to hurt Draco, to duel, to curse. The face of a boy longing for the moments he could be himself. And Draco went out of his way to antagonize him, to get him to the point his true self broke the golden boy mask and the real spirit within came out to play.

If there was any justice in this world Potter would have been in Slytherin and they would have ruled the school together. But he could settle for attempting to kill one another. It livened things up a bit either way.

Draco watched in carefully hidden disgust the crimson clad object of his thoughts wander into the potions classroom with the bushy haired know-it-all at his side. The boy pulled back his chair, tossed his bag underneath it carelessly and sprawled in his seat in a graceful way only wild animals could obtain. Granger leaned in to tell him something and Potter raised a hand to cut her off, not interested. She huffed, plopped down in the chair beside him and crossed her arms. He shook his head and said something else that made her smile grudgingly. All that was missing was-

"Harry I wasn't _finished!"_

The ginger.

Everyone in the class turned to stare at the outburst. Draco covered his mouth with his hand, turned to the side and coughed delicately, hiding the grin dying to break out. It was one of those days.

Granger rolled her eyes and fixed them both with a glare. "This is insane. Make up already. I told you it was a stupid thing to get in an argument over, need I repeat my list of reasons why?" She threatened.

"I'd rather you didn't," Said Potter, in a bland voice Draco adored, "that is why I ignored you the first time."

Unfortunately Snape arrived and ordered the lot of them to their proper seats. Draco's lips tugged downward just a bit. They were almost at the good part! He gave a silent sigh. Potter would probably forgive the menace before Draco got to see them pummel each other.

Pity. Potter looked delicious with bruises.

The day brightened considerably when Snape declared a partnered project. In a feeble attempt to thwart what they knew was coming everyone reached out and grabbed hold of their preferred choice for partner. The stoic professor gave them one minute of hopeful breath holding before dashing it to pieces with a vicious half-smile.

"I have already assigned partners for you. As I call you move to sit with your partner, you will be sitting with each other for the next three weeks. Enjoy."

While those around him scowled and groaned and moaned about injustice Draco turned to his right and locked eyes with Potter, who was already looking in his direction. Draco raised a brow, Potter returned the gesture flippantly. Draco crossed his arms and put his feet on the table. Potter copied him. They glared at one another, neither yielding, until Pansy unceremoniously dumped Potter out of his chair so she could sit beside Granger.

He stood up, shot Pansy a glare of her own which the witch only smiled at snobbishly. Potter grabbed his bag and moved to sit beside Draco. They didn't bother listening to Snape or waiting for confirmation. Whenever they were assigned pairs in any class that Slytherin and Gryffindor held together the professor would always put Draco and Potter together. It was some unwritten rule of cruel and unusual punishment.

Draco grinned at him. "Welcome Potter."

Potter sat down, the very picture of someone annoyed to all Hell. "I would have won that one." He grumbled.

"The world will never know." Said Draco, already copying down the instructions from the board.

"The most dangerous non-lethal, legal potions in use today." Potter read aloud.

"Glad to know those ugly glasses at least do their job."

"Ha bloody ha." The weak insult was thrown in there out of habit more than malice Draco knew, it was reflexive for them to be nasty to one another.

"Any ideas in that thick head of yours?"

Potter gave a fake yawn. "That's scraping the bottom of the barrel right there."

Draco gave an elegant shrug. "It's been four years. Embarrass yourself a bit more if you want better insults."

The raven haired boy looked at him with mock sincerity. "I'll get right on that."

Emerald eyes glanced him over. Draco looked down. Did he leave a button undone?

"How do you do that?"

Draco looked up. "Do what?"

"Look so perfect all the time."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Is this the part where you tell me you're secretly in love with me? Because the potions classroom is a tad unromantic."

Potter's cheeks flushed. "That isn't what I _meant_!"

"Alright." Draco leaned back, smirking at the Gryffindor's flustered look. "What _did_ you mean?"

Potter gestured to him without looking him int he eyes. "You're always so clean. Like your fingernails are clean and trim, never stained with ink, and your clothes are clean and creased and I don't think I've ever even _seen_ your tie undone."

He leaned forward and motioned for Potter to come closer. "I'm pure at heart. It repels the dirt."

Potter snorted.

"I take offense to that." Said Draco. "First I'm perfect and now you're making derisive noises in my direction. What am I supposed to think with all of these mixed signals? If this is your best attempt at wooing it's no wonder you're still single."

The boy next to him let out a frustrated growl. "Are you always this loathsome and annoying Draco?"

"No, sometimes I'm asleep."

Potter took a deep breath, obviously attempting not to punch him. This fact only made Draco smile more which in turn frustrated Potter more. It didn't help the other boy's case that he'd slipped and called him Draco.

"I don't know how you can be so stubborn."

Draco tapped his notes to make another copy that he handed to Potter. "It's a superpower. I was bitten by a radioactive mule."

Silence. Draco turned and saw Potter staring at him open mouthed.

_"What now?"_

"That's a muggle reference."

Draco rolled silver eyes, something he never did with anyone else because it was unseemly. he made exceptions for Potter.

"I do read you know. Maybe you don't, Weasel doesn't seem like the thinking sort but you'd think _Granger_ would stuff a bit of literature down your throat once in a while out of know-it-all ever-loving-book-worm principle."

"I_ read_."

"If you say so."

Class ended precisely then and so Draco left a fuming messy haired boy savior behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

**AN:** I made a slight change to the last chapter. In the original story I had a different idea in mind this next chapter, but it ended up changing to suit my needs, so now Draco does NOT tell Harry to meet him when he leaves potions. Hope this prevents confusion.

**-Pseu**

* * *

><p><em>I can't tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like<em>

_And right now there's a steel knife in my windpipe_

_I love it, the more I suffer _

_And we fall back into the same patterns, the same routine_

_But your temper's just as bad as mine is, you're the same as me_

* * *

><p>Harry let himself have a moment of feral growling and annoyance, took a breath, cleared his face, then put his potions book into his bag, swung it over his shoulder and started making his way to his next class. Generally speaking Harry Potter was very good at not letting things get to him. His whole life bad things had happened and coming into the magical world certain hadn't changed that fact. Smiling and nodding and carrying on as if it were nothing was a survival tacit he'd learned early in life and it continued to help him now. But there were moments when the almost perfectly formed mask he wore would get a crack and a bit of the anger and resentment he shoved into the shallows of his soul would leak through.<p>

Luckily, or unluckily, the source of these cracks was usually Malfoy. Lucky because it wasn't someone who would be alarmed by such things, unlucky because Malfoy was just so damned good at making him lose it. At this point whenever they interacted outside of class he could actually hear people taking bets on them, expecting a fight of some sort. And fight they did, they fought like they were born with exactly the needed traits to perfectly piss off the other. Because while no one could get to him like Malfoy he was secure in the knowledge no one could get to Malfoy like he could. Oh there was Ron of course but that was a different sort of hate altogether. If Harry was in the room Malfoy's spite had eyes only for him.

So he wasn't surprised when various students in his year and even some who weren't, came up to him to express their disbelief at his forced partnership with the snarky Slytherin. Seamus had, in fact, asked if he should maybe offer condolences to Malfoy's friends at lunch, just to save time. The implication being Harry was sure to murder the other boy before the three weeks were up and the next opportunity to both offer an apology and insult one of their leaders was lunch. Seamus was used to getting smacked around for saying stupid things, so the fact he'd probably get a good punch in the face or a hex didn't deter him in the slightest. Rather like the Weasely Twins, Seamus lived for entertainment.

Any entertainment.

Harry went through the motions in each of his classes. Lunch came and he followed the line of hungry, hormonal students to the great hall. Hermione whispered words urging him to speak with Ron. Ron walked ahead of them, turning back to glare at Harry every so often.

All of it seemed so distant to him. Sometimes it was like being in a virtual reality theatre, looking at the world through the eyes of his body but unable to connect with any of it. Harry had felt this way to an extent his entire life, but it had become harder and harder to push the feeling away lately. Like a huge rubber band was wrapped around him and he had to force his will against it and hold it back to let the feelings of the world filter in, but his arms were getting tired and the edges of the band kept coming closer.

"It's unacceptable!"

Harry jumped and looked up. They were already at the great hall, in fact they were sitting and food was before him. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, he even had food on his plate and some of it was eaten. _Merlin_ he was out of it.

"You can always do correspondence courses or take extra classes during the summer at the ministry." Said Padma Patil soothingly. She was sitting with her twin today.

"That isn't the point, I shouldn't have to. Hogwarts is meant to be one of the _greatest_ institutions of magic in the world. Merlin's early works were used for lectures and demonstrations when it was first built. What do you think Merlin would do if he were alive today to see this?" The brunette demanded, thumping a fist on the table and causing Harry's half drunken water to slosh.

"I think he'd be too busy clawing at the inside of his coffin to much care about the state of our education." Harry said, dryly. He Pulled his wand from his shoe where he'd taken to sticking it and flicked it to clean up the newly made puddle.

_"Harry!"_ Hermione looked positively scandalized.

Padma and Parvati however thought it was funny, turning their heads quickly after they laughed and Hermione sent a glare their way.

Harry shot them a wink. "Relax Hermione, it was just a joke."

"It is not funny it's...it's disrespectful. It's morbid. It's-"

The raven-haired Gryffindor thought he could actually _feel _the moment his eyes started to glaze over during Hermione's tirade.

Maybe he could get Ron to start a physical fight with him in Defense Against the Dark Arts again. Then she could follow Ron around the rest of the day, nagging at him and Harry could...damn. He still had to set up a time to meet with Malfoy about their potions assignment.

Tuning out Hermione entirely, Harry reached around under the table for his bag. The leather strap slid against his hand, cool and soft, he yanked it up, pushing dishes aside and ignoring the stared from his house mates. When he brought out a bit of parchment to scribble a note on it they all relaxed and went back to their meals. He scoffed in his head. Would it be so surprising if he _did_ ever feel the need to study at a meal like a Ravenclaw? He wasn't stupid.

Shutting that can of worms away he tapped the note and in a fit of inspiration transformed it into a paper crane as Malfoy had done during their third year. Carefully he picked it up, smiled mischievously and went ahead and glamoured it red and gold. Malfoy would hate that. Harry looked up across his table to the Slytherin one just beyond, as always he and Malfoy sat facing each other.

Never turn your back to your enemies!

_D_

_Meet in library. After dinner. Today._

_Potions Project._

_-H_

Catching silver eyes he allowed a dark smirk to blossom on his face. Malfoy blinked and raised an eyebrow. the sight of the flying red and gold monstrosity soon caught those silver eyes and the look of horror entering them when they reached the accurate conclusion he was it's intended target was fantastic. Harry covered his mouth to keep from laughing outright. Malfoy looked like he wanted to murder Harry then and there. With air of someone very much put upon the Malfoy Heir unfolded the crane and read it, leaning away when Parkinson tried to see it over his shoulder. The Slytherin tossed Harry a superior look, snapped his fingers, and quill was hurriedly placed there by a lower year. Harry snorted. Slytherin Prince indeed.

Then Malfoy wrote something on it, refolded it and sent it back.

Harry scowled at the now obnoxiously green and silver crane headed his was, his table mates staring at as if it carried the plaques of Egypt with it. Hermione made to snatch it, but his seeker's reflexes were in top form. As always, he thought, far more smug about it then he had any right to be. It was in his head though so he figured he could be smug all he liked. He waved it at her with one hand and waggled a finger. The book worm scoffed and turned away to eat, a very small smile in place.

_H_

_I didn't know you were aware we had a library, much less knew its location._

_I might even die of shock._

_Six. Don't be late. I bore easily._

_-D_

_Post. Script. _

_Find your own signature note sending method you unoriginal thief!_

Harry rolled his eyes. Even his handwriting sounded sarcastic the slimy git.

He tilted his head and considered the last part of the message. It came to him, then, out of no where, and it was brilliant. Malfoy surely couldn't complain about this. Harry picked up his glass, drank its contents, set in front of him and paused. Glancing through his bangs he quickly surmised that the students remaining at his table were already over the momentary excitement of his potentially cursed paper crane and were once again taking no notice of him. Shrugging he studied the glass and imagined in his mind what he needed it to look like. Slowly the glass warped and curved into a glass sphere the size of a snitch. Throwing in a few more spells off the top off his head, Harry scritched another note, opened the sphere, out the note inside and spelled it silver and gold, complete with transparent wings.

_D_

_I told. I read._

_-H_

_P.S. There. Happy your majesty?_

The great hall was beginning to empty. Harry slid his things into his bag and stood, making for the door. He wouldn't be able to get through the crowd to slip it to Malfoy so he figured he may as well make a scene.

"Oi Malfoy!"

The blonde turned, his body language defensive. So did everyone else.

"Catch." And he chucked it at him. Malfoy, being another seeker, grabbed the sphere automatically. He looked down at it then back up at Harry, blankly. Harry mimed opening it.

The boy gave him an annoyed glare.

"What are you doing?'

Hermione stood next to him glancing back and forth between him and Malfoy.

"Throwing things at Malfoy." He answered truthfully.

Harry could tell from the icy chill he could almost feel radiating off Malfoy that he was going to regret this later. But a good hex was still better than his original plans for the evening.

Sneaking away to go take a nap.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synnonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

><p><em>See me in the shadows, see me in the shadows<em>

_Songs I will sing of tribes and kings and the carrion bird and the hall of the slain_

_Nothing seems real, you soon will feel_

_The world we live in is another skalds dream in the shadows, dream in the shadows_

_Do not fear my reason there's nothing to hide, how bitter your treason, how bitter the lie_

_See me in the shadows_

* * *

><p>All of the houses had their own sort of hierarchy, their own social structure and system that none of the others were privy to. They could only see the results. Of course, sometimes altercations in moves for power or dominance were, on occasion, witnessed outside of the house but they were rarely known for what they were.<p>

Unless you were a Slytherin.

As the largest collection of children born the group who called themselves Death Eaters, they took moves of power very seriously. House prejudice aside, one never knew when the information may come in handy, be it tomorrow or years after graduation. But if you _really_ wanted to see power plays and politics...Slytherin was the place to be.

Subtle glances, tones of voice, eye contact, hand gestures. Anything and everything could and did mean something if you were educated in the rhymes and rhythms of such things. The pureblood society at large was an obscenely complex organism rich in customs and traditions centuries old. And the house of the snakes took it to a whole new level.

It was code few outside of Slytherin House were ever able to read. Where whom sat and with whom, what they wore, who they walked with or stood beside or in front of or behind. It all mattered. They didn't just act the way they did for fun, all their little quirks, their posture and tilts of the heads and sneers...it was a hidden language in plain sight.

It was game of politics, a game of intimation, a game of kings, and it never ended. In the halls, at dinner, in class or the library, in the common room or in the dorm. It never ended. One's guard, one's mask must always be in place. Prepared for any and all possible attacks. Not the physical sort, but the _mental and verbal_ sort. Slytherin's hardly needed to dirty their hands when cerated tongues laced with poison could cripple their opposition with a word.

It was a strategy that annoyed the other houses to no end. The Ravenclaws were generally smart enough to use their pureblood knowledge to get them through any needed conversations with the House of Snakes, whereas the Puffs relied on smiles and politeness to alert the Slytherins of their wish to communicate peacefully. Gryffindors...that was another matter entirely. Perhaps the only house with a social structure equal in its complexity, they were opposites in every way. The two Houses had a struggle for dominance over the other born in the time of the founders, with no discernible victory in sight.

Draco, current head of the green team for the Slytherin/Gryffindor eternal spat, sat straight-backed just to the right of the center of the Slytherin table. A member of the Slytherin court and indeed technically the second highest ranking snake, it was his place. He took a bite of his salad and sip of water from his goblet then he allowed his eyes to look directly across to the next table over. In that place, facing him, was Potter. Since the day of their arrival this had been their seating arrangement, regardless of their place at their individual table, they always faced one another. Whether it was out of curiosity, fate, accident or an instinct to keep ones back to the wall and eye on their enemy, Draco wasn't sure.

It didn't matter anymore.

He went through the choreography of dinner, nodding in the right places, interjecting a comment when needed, eyes tracking events around his table and the hall, eating, drinking, nodding in an automatic military waltz. Each socialization, each observed interaction, each fact carefully taken and stored in the warehouse of his mind, alphabetically and according to subject with practiced precision for him to peruse and examine when he had more time.

As for now he dabbed his face with a napkin, rose from his seat, bid farewell and began his journey to the library. Expensive boots, silenced of course, lead the way through the halls requiring little instruction from their master. Draco had long since memorized the course. Entering the library he took a left until he nearly met the west side wall, then turn right nearly to the back, another right and then a left at the pillar. Straight into a small area with a window seat, small table and Potter.

The dark haired boy knew he was there, Draco knew he did, but he said nothing. Draco didn't know if he was waiting for him to announce his presence or if the page he was staring at going on five minutes_ was_ truly that fascinating.

He cleared his throat gently, mindful of the devil librarian woman who had the ability to pop out of shadowed corners whenever a loud noise made it's self known.

Terrifying female.

"Potter you requested to meet up about our assignment not a staring at the Gryffindor session."

The boy didn't look up from his book. "I suppose you do enough of that in the great hall anyway."

Draco ignored the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he clenched his jaw before smoothing his features.

"I do not know what you do with your spare time Potter, but some of us have other things to do."

"Ah but you see, I'm reading a book about gravity and it's just amazing. I can't seem to put it down. ironic that."

_"Potter."_

The Gryffindor lowered the book and met his eyes with that grin of his which Draco only liked when it was accompanied by curses. Preferably at the Weasel. Unless he wanted to duel, but the library was not the best place for it unless detentions were now secret codes for access to illegal after hours parties. That would be tolerable.

"Ah there it is. Right there. The glare of death."

Draco pulled out the chair across from him, sitting down, intent on making a remark when they were interrupted.

"Harry look, I know I shouldn't have said that but-" The ginger stopped, eying Draco with what was most definitely mutual loathing.

"What is_ he_ doing here?"

Draco leaned back in the chair, keeping his face perfectly calm. "It's called socializing."

Weasely stared at him.

Draco looked at Potter and questioningly. "Was that too large a word? Should I point him in the direction of the dictionaries?"

Potter snorted then tried valiantly to cover it up by coughing. He did not succeed.

"That isn't funny Harry."

"Yes it was." Said Draco.

Potter raised his book and hid his face behind it, though the slight shaking of shoulders told Draco he wasn't suddenly checking up the difference of gravity in space versus on the Earth.

"Honestly Harry you _can't_ keep ignoring me." The taller boy said mournfully, giving his best large eyes of doom.

At this Potter straightened, apparently immune, green eyes narrowing. "Yes, actually, I can. Allow me to demonstrate." He turned to Draco. "How was your day?"

Draco raised a brow. "The same as every other day. I think I even used the _same_ Hufflepuff first year as a writing desk as I did yesterday."

"Evil git." Muttered Weasely.

Draco turned to him. After all_ Potter_ was ignoring him, not Draco.

"You've caught me. I'm so deliriously full of wickedness I just can't keep it secret any longer. I confess, I enjoy terrorizing muggle villages and burning down their homes. And, sometimes, when I'm feeling really evil-" He paused dramatically, "I read. Or paint."

Potter, who was still pretending only Draco was present flipped through the pages in his book louder than necessary. "Do you know if we have books on Geometry?"

Draco blinked. "Why, are you planning to use the rather large circumference of Weasley's head versus the small gray matter between his ears in a presentation somewhere on depressing abnormalities? Because I can help with that."

"Actually I just found the word polygon and it made me think of pirates."

Draco scrunched his nose.

"So what does that have to do with Geometry?"

"Well, I like that it makes me think of pirates, so if I like the shape as well I'm going to make it the symbol of my ship's flag."

"Do you have a ship?" asked Draco, sitting up straighter.

"Not yet." said Potter, wistfully.

The ginger unfortunately hadn't taken the hint. Though Draco would gladly skip the rest of his planned evening and continue pissing him off.

"What's a poly..polygon?"

"A dead parrot." Said Draco, with a completely straight face.

A half an hour later, after the read head stomped off, Draco and Potter were still arguing about the same thing.

"I won."

"No."

"Yes. I totally won."

"My insults were way better, they certainly got to him more than your ignoring."

"No it didn't, and your jokes were only funny _because_ I was ignoring him."

"I resent that in its highest form sir, my insults were golden."

"I still win. I'm his best friend, it makes more of an impact. He expects it from you."

"Potter I beat you on the nasty scale no matter _how_ you look at it."

Potter raised his chin in the typical Gryffindor defiance pose. "You take that back."

Draco smirked. "Never."

"I can be just as nasty as you!"

"Never going to happen." He scoffed.

"Let's go find him then. I bet you a galleon I can get him red-faced and spluttering in five minutes or less."

Draco tapped his chin. "Fine. You're on."

They picked up their books, which they never actually opened, Potter swung his disgusting muggle bag around his shoulder while Draco shrunk his books and put them in his pockets. Together they turned and walked out of the library to go find the Weasel. They had to find out tonight who was best at getting the ginger to blow up or they'd never get to sleep. Never mind the project that was the _soul_ reason they were even meeting in the library, never mind that Potter and Weasely were meant to be friends, never mind that it was a bit messed up on both of their parts. It was a matter of principle. One of them had to be the best. One of them had to be the winner and the other the loser.

This was just something else to add to the score card.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: T. **For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings**: Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

><p><em>You told me "Yes", you held me high and I believed when you told that lie<em>

_I played soldier _

_You played king _

_And struck me down when I kissed that ring_

_You lost that right to hold that crown, I built you up but you let me down_

_So when you fall I'll take my turn a__nd fan the flames as your blazes burn_

_...can't wait to burn it to the ground_

* * *

><p>Harry spent most of Saturday morning in Gryffindor tower, sitting in a seat near the fire place he'd long since claimed as his, looking through books he took from the library. Potions wasn't his favourite subject but Hell would freeze before he would allow Malfoy to control a school project that had <em>his<em> name on it too. It was actually an interesting project in a way, choosing what you thought was the most dangerous potion currently available through legal means that was non lethal. You had to choose your potion and then defend your choice to the class. Grades were awarded according not the amount of effort one put into it, but how cleverly they managed to convince the class of their choice. Perhaps this was why Hermione was so upset yesterday, things like public speaking and debating were once part of Hogwarts curriculum to both prepare future Lords and Ladies for their responsibilities in an objective forum and to enlighten the muggleborn or muggle raised students in the ways of the wizarding world and help them manage living in it a bit better. Hermione could certainly use an wizarding etiquette class because even he knew better than to do and say some of the things she did, no matter how well meaning they might be intentioned. He couldn't say any of this of course, or she'd never stop angsting to him about her academic dissatisfactions.

Normally he had Ron nearby to say something insensitive and distract her attentions from Harry but that wasn't possible for the moment. Harry might like Ron, they were friends for a very long time, but friendship and affection did not grant ownership and it did not mean Ron was automatically give forgiveness for his transgressions, if anything he ought to be punished harsher than a stranger would be. Friends weren't supposed to be the people who hurt you and Harry had had more than enough people in his life who hurt him for his own good. If he let Ron off the hook so quickly then he was giving him permission to act this way again in the future and that wouldn't do. And, in all honesty, he probably would have forgiven the other boy sooner if he'd been sorry. Oh he was sorry that Harry was mad at him and he was apologizing for making him mad but he wasn't acknowledging that he did anything wrong or why it upset Harry in the first place. And that didn't make it a worthy apology. If you accidentally shot someone because you pointed a gun at them and fired without checking to see if the safety was on, you don't say sorry just because they're upset. You say you're sorry because you damn well shot them.

Maybe he was being too muggle about this, Harry mused. Maybe there was some sort of pureblood, because Ron was a pureblood, ideology or custom he was missing here that could help him understand. He still wouldn't forgive Ron, not yet, but it would be nice to have an actually reason for Ron to be so stupid and unrepentant instead of him just honestly not realizing after four years of knowing one another that saying what he did was not okay. What hurt even more, was that Ron truly meant what he said.

He shifted his position in the chair and flipped the page of his book.

"Unacceptable."

Harry marked his place in the book he was reading and looked up to meet the agitated eyes of Hermione Granger.

"Pardon?"

She uncrossed her arms and placed them on her hips. "Your behavior with Ronald. What were you thinking Harry? Goading Malfoy into joining you in _humiliating_ him? You can be upset if you like but being needlessly vindictive just to please your petty hurts, especially against you best friend whom I might add was trying to apologize, is despicable. You purposely went out of your way to bully someone. We aren't Slytherin's Harry and we don't get to hurt other people whenever we feel like it, other people have feelings and that matters. He apologized several times so...so quite sulking and forgive him and stop this..." she trailed off and made a vague motion in his direction.

It was a simple, everyday action but when Harry shut his book and set it down, took off his glasses, put them in his pocket and stood up the entire common room went still. He took two steps and stopped directly in front of her. Brown eyes widened and Hermione took an aborted step backward.

Harry raised one finger. "This is between Ron and myself, we do not request nor do we require an owl intermediary in the form of yourself." He raised another finger. "What Ron said was thoughtless and I am not ready to forgive him for it no matter how much you harp at me about it." He raised a third finger. "I told him not to speak to me. I told him I was upset with him. I told him not to follow me. He ignored what I wanted, focused entirely on his need to earn my forgiveness and didn't spare a thought as to why I was upset in the first place. He's lucky I didn't petrify him on sight and leave him there to Malfoy's mercy. And I was tempted to do so. It is only because he is the first friend I made in the wizarding world, and an inconvenient desire to retain him as such, that I did not."

He took another step closer. "Questions?"

She shook her head, face pale.

"Excellent." Harry glanced at his watch, picked up his book, put in his bag, turned and gave a bow to the common room at large and swept out of the portrait hole without a backward glance.

A neatly combed head of blonde hair was visible as Harry entered his small study area, relishing in the silence of the library. Silver eyes watched him unpack his things and sit down, immediately open a book and start taking notes.

"What no witty unfounded insult against my character? No idiotic quips about books? I'm a bit offended."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I apologize, next time I shall come better prepared."

"See that you do." Malfoy sniffed.

He looked up when he felt Malfoy continuing to look at him. The blonde gave a smirk then, and in his best impression of Harry himself asked, _"How was your day?"_

Harry let out a startled laugh. "Yeah, I was a bit desperate to get rid of him."

"Obviously."

"It sucked."

A fair brow rose. "Could you be more specific?"

"It_ really_ sucked."

"Your mastery of the English language astounds." Malfoy deadpanned.

"Unfortunately a lot of people miss the subtler art of word plays and sarcasm."

"Tragic that. You wouldn't want to go around _lying_ to people or anything."

Harry started on a second piece of parchment. "Merlin forbid that." He muttered.

"Which potion have you decided on?"

_"Veritaserum."_

"I was thinking more along the line of _Amortentia. _I know it isn't legal to use on another person for its intended purpose but they are legal to make and to buy to be used in medications as a partial sedative effect. It's still available and technically legal."

Harry finished scritching his sentence then set his quill aside. "Defend."

Draco closed his book and moved it, bringing his chair in closer to the table and laying his arms across it in front of him.

"To me, having your emotions trifled with, just in a normal everyday way, sounds horrible. To have a love potion...to have all of these feelings you didn't have before flooding through you and unable to understand where they came from and eventually unable to remember why you shouldn't feel them, to be utterly unable to fight against or indeed even aware there is something to fight against. It's a rose coloured version of the Imperious." He gestured at Harry.

"Defend."

"I picked _Veritaserum _because the truth, to me, is dangerous. In the wrong hands the truth becomes a weapon. The truth contains the secret to controlling anyone. You learn someone's fears, someone's weakness, someone's skeletons and you own them. The things people think but never say can destroy families, reputations and kingdoms."

Malfoy leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs, looking very pureblooded and smug about it, and thought for a minute.

"I propose an experiment. We each must try to prove to the other why our chosen potion is the better choice. The winning potion is used for our project and we'll even site the experiment in our essay. Snape will have to give us extra credit if we do that, he may hate you but _I'm_ his godson and he won't deny me if I put in the effort."

"...I'm listening. But if you come anywhere near me with either of those potions I'm going to-"

The Slytherin waved a hand, slight sneer in place. "I'm not about to waste my time humiliating you with a potion that allows you to tell everyone _exactly_ whom did it in a way that's admissible in court."

"I can't tell if that's meant to reassure me or threaten me."

"And anyway, we duel in the halls often enough I could probably manage to kill you off accidentally. Or at least make it look accidental. Everyone knows we fight, they'll tell the aurors that, and you of course entered into the duel willingly. I'm sure I wouldn't get more than a fine for it, maybe have to pay to erect a statue in your honour or some such ridiculous nonsense."

"Comforting."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary:** Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating:** T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions?** Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

><p><em>I turn my head to the East, I don't see nobody by my side<em>

_I turn my head to the West, still nobody in sight_

_So I turn my head to the North, swallow that pill that they call pride_

_The old me is dead and gone, dead and gone, dead and gone_

* * *

><p>None of them could recall a time the two Gryffindors had been upset with one another for so long. Sure they had little arguments now and then but it was normal for them to get over it fairly quickly in typical, awkward back-slapping fashion. The arguments were petty and superficial, almost always started by the red-head in way or another. It surprised no one that he was the cause of it yet again. This new never-ending cycle of humiliation was something Draco could get used to. Every morning the Weasel attempted to speak with Potter at breakfast. Every morning Potter made his displeasure with the other boy known, to the world at large, in creative ways. The first time he stood up and slowly dumped an entire pitcher of juice on the Weasel's head. On another morning he put him in a body bind and hung his cloak over his head like a coat rack.<p>

This morning looked to be the best yet.

"How can you be so selfish?" Burst out the Weasel.

Potter, calmly, kept eating his porridge. The Slytherins, who'd taken to coming to breakfast early to enjoy the show, sat up straighter, eyes locked on the next table over. Waiting.

"I'm talking to you."

The red head shoved Potter. Potter's spoon went flying. Everybody froze. Messing with Potter before he had his coffee was just asking for it. With the feral grace Draco loved to see, Potter swung his legs around the bench, stood and face the other boy.

"Go away."

"No. This isn't fair. I've apologized a bunch of times and I'm not gonna let you walk around like I have to grovel just because you're Harry fucking Potter. Get over it. So what if it hurt your feelings, it was a joke. You knew I meant it as a joke. And this might be news to you but the world doesn't revolve around you and I don't have to follow you around like a damned dog waiting for your approval." So much angst.

Potter smiled. Oh dear.

"I'm going to use little words. Just for you." He cleared his throat. _"Fuck you."_

And the brunette walked around the dumbstruck boy, straight out of the hall without another word.

Unfortunately Draco had to meet up with the hot headed boy in an enclosed space back in the library with no one around to see him murdered in a fit of displaced rage. Well to hell with that. Seeing Potter put the ginger menace in his place was one thing and while Draco enjoyed dueling with the Gryffindor he wasn't about to be used as target practice while the other boy vented his rage.

To his satisfaction, and most certainly not to his relief, Draco ended up finding the boy wonder balancing on the railing of the seventh floor balcony, staring down a the mini-students occupying the lower levels, all the way down to the entrance hall on the first floor level. Once he was certain the boy was contemplating jumping or some such nonsense he sat beside him and looked with him. Three floors down an obvious sappy couple walked beside one another, the boy carrying an armload of books. Silver eyes glanced at the boy next to him. With a mental shrug Draco pointed his wand at the boy and whispered an incantation. The next girl walking past them on the staircase received the boy's full attention, he actually handed off the books _back_ to his girlfriend and starting following the other girl down the stairs. Potter laughed.

Draco repressed a pleased smile, lifting his chin. "You don't seem too worried about the moral implications of this."

Potter gave an odd sort of shrug.

"Don't much care about other people's love lives anyway. If I must know about them they might as well be entertaining."

"Living vicariously through others are we?"

He made a face. "I have _no_ desire to wander around carrying someone else's things while they rattle on about inane subjects I don't care about and then stare at me expectantly for a compliment."

"I don't see how that's any different then walking around with Granger and the Weasel. Just add in some condescending lectures and food."

"Food?"

"The Weasel is always eating. I once saw him take out bacon from a pocket in the middle of Transfiguration and just start munching away. Crumbs over his robes, smearing grease around the desk." Draco mimicked vomiting.

"His eating habits do leave much to be desired." Potter grinned, turned and waved his wand a girl with a ponytail. She tripped into a girl in front of her. The ink bottle in her hands dousing the back of the girls uniform.

Draco tilted his head. "That didn't do much."

The Gryffindor tapped his wand against his chin, apparently accidentally blasting his jaw off wasn't a fear of his. "Watch."

He waved his wand again and the girl drenched with ink started shouting.

_"I can't believe you. You're such a self centered brat. Well you know what, miss popular, Aaron was with me Saturday. He wasn't off getting your birthday present he was with me in the Astronomy tower. That's right so-"_ She froze, clamping a hand over her mouth, horrified. Ponytail girl threw herself at her. Both of them rolled on the floor, kicking and screaming.

It was marvelous.

"Dance puppets..." Said Potter in a sing-song voice. Draco laughed involuntarily.

"Oh Gods my cheeks hurt."

"You don't laugh often. I suppose they aren't used to the exercise." There. Right there. Now that was Potter. Not this sulky annoying swot he'd been on the train to school. The kid wasn't real. Potter had a backbone and a _mouth_. Potter was fun. Merlin let the Weasel continue fucking up. It was _for the betterment of mankind_ really.

"Oh I do plenty of facial stretching. Smirking, scowling, sneering..."

"There is that." Murmured Potter.

"How did you know about the Astronomy tower?"

"I like to sit on the edge of the balcony and contemplate mortality. For some odd reason no one ever sees me when they come up there."

Morbid.

"Ah yes it's their fault for not seeing through your _invisibility cloak."_ Lucky bastard. He could think of one hundred things off the top of his head he would do if he access to an invisibility cloak. Definitely things more interesting then sneaking into the forbidden section. Smuggling a baby dragon in first year didn't count. Potter hadn't done it for the proper reasons _and_ he'd gotten caught.

"That's no excuse. I sit up there talking to myself aloud. Sometimes I hum. What sort of imbecile doesn't find that immediately suspicious? It isn't as if the castle suddenly decided to give them some music to set the mood." Potter leaned over the balcony. "How long does it take for a bunch of teenagers to descend into anarchy?"

Honestly the boy had the attention span of a kneazel. "How long?" He asked, gamely.

"Lets find out." Potter placed his hand over Draco's and directed Draco's wand, muttering a spell. Curious, Draco watched. Within five minutes ice formed along the stairs. Every. Single. One. Students were slipping and falling into piles of other students. Smacking into walls, dropping their things. It quickly escalated to people taking their frustrations out on one another.

Draco leaned to the side with a bored expression to avoid a wayward hex. It was complete and utter chaos. Lovely.

"And now to prove the truth is dangerous." Potter cupped his hands to his mouth. _"It was Malfoy's wand! I saw it."_

The entire group looked up, zeroing in on him. Draco tried to glare a hole through Potter's head. He was unsuccessful. The smug git smiled at him innocently.

"It _is_ the truth."

"Piss on you Potter."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

><p><em>You can be amazing, you can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug<em>

_You can be the outcast or be the backlash of somebody's lack of love_

_Or you can start speaking up_

_And since your history of silence won't do you any good,_

_Did you think it would?_

_Let your words be anything but empty, why don't you tell them the truth?_

_Say what you wanna say and let the words fall out_

_Honestly_

* * *

><p>Harry sat at his usual place to the right of the classroom, Hermione sitting to the left of him. That spot was normally home to Ron in years past, now Hermione took over that role and Ron had to find a seat wherever one was left. The dark haired Gryffindor couldn't resist flashing the ginger a superior smile at every available opportunity. He knew he was riling the bigger boy and he knew it was childish, he just couldn't find it in him to care. Hermione made disapproving noises in the back of her throat Harry steadily ignored. After that night in the common room she'd keep her opinions to herself. For the most part.<p>

Facing forward Harry brought out a muggle notebook and made a show of opening it to write in it, mostly because he thoroughly enjoyed the looks on the faces of purebloods when he was seen with it. Honestly he thought parchment looked more impressive and it was fun writing on it, but irritating other people was even more fun. Especially if they learned he actually preferred parchment and a fountain pen. Harry chewed the tip of the blatant muggle pen.

After a moment a triangular folded note made it's way to his desk. It was pink. Mentally he rolled his eyes. With a poorly concealed smirk he looked across the room and met silver eyes. Malfoy raised an imperious brow. Harry lifted his note just enough for the blonde to see, waving it. Malfoy gave a returned smirk and lifted one of his own, waving it exaggeratedly.

Harry snorted then mouthed 'How many?'

The blonde raised seven fingers. Harry lifted five. The Slytherin looked outrageously smug.

"Harry?"

He looked to his left.

"Why are you and Malfoy communicating in sign language?"

Harry blinked at his friend. "We're not."

Hermione opened her mouth but he was spared interrogation by the slamming of the door.

"Sit down, books aways, parchment out and listen." Barked Moody.

Something silver and golden nearly hit him in the face. Harry jerked back and caught it. The snitch he made. Harry leaned around Hermione to glare at Malfoy. As expected, he was un-repentant.

_Truth or Dare? _Mouthed the blonde.

He rolled his eyes. _Dare._

Harry waited for the professor to to start writing on the blackboard, then he tossed snitch at Malfoy. The blonde caught it, glanced up at the front of the room, took out a piece of parchment, wrote on it and tossed the snitch back. Harry caught it just as the Professor turned around. He hid it under his desk and froze.

"Today we are going to discuss dark spells versus light spells. What is the difference?"

Parkinson raised her hand. "Miss Parkinson?"

"One is looked down on to practice and the other isn't, but which is which depends on who you ask?" she asked snidely.

Snickers. With all eyes elsewhere Harry looked down and took out the note.

_I dare you to speak nothing but the truth until midnight tonight. _

Damn. Harry could always pretend he had a sore throat and didn't feel like talking he supposed.

"Two points to Slytherin for appreciated humor. What else? Mr Weasley?"

"Dark magicks are the sort used to hurt other people, what the ministry considers dangerous. Using them is illegal."

"No, and yes. There are light magicks that can be used to hurt someone, magic is not defined is the categories of harmful and not so harmful. One point. Anyone else?"

Hermione raised her hand. "Miss Granger?"

"Dark magic is considered unstable, addicting and potentially harmful by everyone where as light magic is considered to have a useful purpose."

The ex-auror scratched his chin. "You gave me the politically accepted definitions but_ not_ the answer I asked for. Someone else?"

Hermione huffed, no doubt outraged by the lack of points earned.

"Mr Potter?"

Double Damn.

"It's isn't _any_ of those things. Dark Magicks are those passed down by followers of Morgan and ancient magicks and practices where as Light Magicks are those techniques passed down by Merlin and his followers. There are also Black Magicks, Gray Magicks, Natural Magicks and more than I have time to list. The difference is whether you follow the ancient traditions, where you honour Mother Magic in your use of her gifts or if you use your magic as a granted tool like you would a sword or a shield, and as nothing more or less than that. As for the modern definitions? All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is generally a function of _power _rather than _truth_. You must take popular opinion with a grain of salt. That is to say, listen with an open mind but prepare yourself to analyze the information you are given regardless of the source or the thoughts of other's around you. Each of us is _affected _by our life experiences to a different degree which in turn _affects_ how we tend to colour the information we are given. Generally it is easier to agree with public opinion because your life is easier for it..." He trailed off.

Hermione raised her hand, looking directly at Harry.

"Have you considered that the publicly agreed upon terms of right and wrong _best serve _the quality of life maintained by the public to be satisfactory?"

Harry didn't bother to raise his hand. "Satisfactory? The world expects you to act and live and be a certain way depending on your supposed opinion. In this case, whether you're declared for _Dark_, declared for _Light_, declared _Neutral _or declared _Unaffiliated. _While I understand that these restrictions are put into place for reasons I wasn't yet born to hear and see, and I can also admit that most of the world believes them to be put into place for the greater good, I can't help but feel, _personally, _that no man has the right to dictate what other men should perceive, create or produce and that instead all of us should be encouraged to reveal themselves, their perceptions and emotions and to build confidence in the creative spirit."

Malfoy was leaning forward in his seat, as were several other students. Harry was surprised to see some of them taking notes.

Hermione turned in her chair completely in order to face him. "We have a hard enough time regulating spells and things as it is! Some of these things are harmful and to allow just anyone to create whatever they want whenever they want in the current age is irresponsible. The wrong sort of people could create truly horrible things and without public knowledge of these things or regulations to control their use we have no way of knowing in what way they'll use them."

Harry glanced at the professor.

"Keep going Potter." Moody sat on his desk, arms folded.

"There isn't any way to control it _now._ Having sketchy laws saying this or that spell isn't allowed anymore isn't going to keep people from doing it. And why not? Why not create spells in the current age? We consider the Golden Age of magicks over because the time when Spellcrafters and Enchanters were a common thing has long since passed. We don't have new spells or charms or illusions created anymore. Only ones that come in and out of fashion to suit the needs of the current ministry and the political climate. Nothing ever _really _settled. Something thought of highly yesterday is frowned upon today and banned altogether tomorrow and occasionally even lost altogether. I think it's a bit of a disgrace you see. While certain limitations on our behavior is _understandable _I long for the days when people of differing ideals frequently came together to argue and debate and _create."_

Hermione frowned. "The fields today with creative progress are Alchemy and Potions, both of which are becoming more and more regulated and observed so we can be certain nothing is harmful and-"

"- and it's being _stilted." _Harry cut in. "Look at the Wolfsbane Potion. Here is an excellent opportunity to be able to study Werewolves and understand the nature of their disease but the potion it's self _isn't_ technically permitted for sale and where you can get it it's outrageously priced. You'd think the world would want to heal their friends and families or at least protect them from acquiring said disease themselves? There are so many lost opportunities that I admit I have found myself somewhat disappointed. So, no. I don't think the current terms for Dark or Light magicks is _at all _relevant. They don't even use them the way the terms are meant to be used, most of the students in this classroom don't understand the terminology. Why call this class _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ when we aren't even studying the Dark Arts? _The Unforgivables? _That isn't Dark Magic at all, if anything it's actually Light Magick because it is manipulated as a tool."

It was very quiet then.

"Twenty-five points to Gryffindor, Mr Potter."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

><p><em>No one ever listens, this wallpaper glistens, don't let them see what goes down in the kitchen<em>

_Places, places, get in your places, throw on your dress and put on your doll faces_

_Everyone thinks that we're perfect, please don't let them look through the curtains_

_Picture, picture, smile for the picture, pose with your brother, won't you be a good sister?_

_Everyone thinks that we're perfect, please don't let them look through the curtains_

_D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E_

_I see things that nobody else sees_

* * *

><p>The story of what happened in Defense spread quickly, even by Hogwarts standards. Reactions were mixed. Some were pleased Granger was shown up, while others were concerned. There was a lot of a talk about possible implications of Potter and Granger's debate. Draco thought the only reasonable implications to take from it were that Potter wasn't as dumb as he acted sometimes and that he was up to date on his wizarding culture. Fitting, considering he was the last Potter and it would fall to him to take over his family's responsibilities when he came of age. The rest of the student population, as often happened, disagreed with his assessment. They thought Potter was 'dark'. If they had bothered to listen to Potter's speech instead of picking random bits of it out they'd realize even if he was that didn't mean he was evil or about to go out and <em>crucio<em> some muggles for sport. The purebloods knew this of course, and as such stayed out of the discussion entirely. It was the halfbloods and mudbloods making a commotion about it, and Draco would be more than satisfied if someone silenced the lot of them. They worried, loudly, that the golden boy's words were signs of his wavering allegiance, that he was trying to recruit students to the Dark or that he was purposely trying to_ embarrass_ Granger.

Granger herself fell into the last category. The frizzy brunette was an absolute child when it came to academic competition. She hated being bested by anyone, as if her constant binging of reading materials justified her self proclaimed label as the cleverest student in their year. While she was good at remembering the information she had read and then vomiting it back up as requested in an obnoxious effort to showcase her mind, that had very little to do with intelligence. In Draco's opinion. In his house Theo was the resident know-it-all and he'd_ yet_ to be ostracized for it because the soft spoken boy did not go out of his way to embarrass his classmates. He didn't hog the Professors' attention for the sole purpose of stroking his ego nor did he automatically assume he knew everything there was to know about a subject just because he'd read a lot of books on it. Knowledge from books and knowledge from experience were different and he accepted, with enviable grace, the few corrections that came his way. If Granger wasn't so stuck on her own mental superiority she might have recognized the difference in reception by their classmates and attempted to emulate Theo's more pleasing attitude of the humble bookworm.

It certainly would have cultivated her some popularity for her talents rather than the limited amount she benefited from being one of the only people allowed near Potter.

However, that wasn't a battle to be won in the space between Defense and lunch. Instead the green-eyed Gryffindor walked the halls with his attention straight ahead ignoring the accusing looks, sitting in Charms alone with no visible anxiety and walking to the great hall alone. The whispered rumbles of rumours whirling around him as he passed seemed to flow right over him. Seemed to. They didn't, each and everyone stuck inside that too sensitive head polluting the boy with self doubt and pain. It was there in his eyes.

Draco saw things no one else did.

A very, very small part of him felt a smidgen of regret. It was his dare that put Potter in this position. Then again, if the little golden boy walked around being himself instead of pretending to be somebody else he wouldn't have an issue. Say what you would about Slytherin's but their masks weren't false faces. They were shields. You wouldn't see one of them acting like a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw just because it would make them more popular or because it was more acceptable. Ambitious yes, fake no.

And that was what really bothered him the most.

Potter was being forced to be someone he wasn't and his so called friends and supporters were fake. They liked him when he was what they needed him to be but if he dared, no pun intended, to be himself, to do something or say something that was real...then the whole damn parade stumbled and crashed. And it was because of this that he'd been surprised Potter had not immediately agreed to choosing _Amortentia_ as their project potion. Potter knew better than anyone, except perhaps Uncle Severus, what is was like to be forced to play a part, to smile and nod and be something that you weren't.

Instead the small git chose _Veritaserum._ In Draco's world the truth was only a problem if you'd done something you shouldn't have and didn't want to be caught. That wasn't the case with Potter, he always did exactly the right thing according to the masses to please them.

He tilted his head and pondered it. Was this what Potter meant when he said the truth was dangerous? The boy hadn't done anything wrong, not really. He hadn't hexed someone or stolen something or tripped a Hufflepuff. The boy had given his honest opinion when asked for it. Wasn't honesty a big deal to Gryffindors? But it wasn't the right truth. Potter didn't get to say things like that, because Potter didn't _get_ to be his own person. He was an idol, a political figure, the symbol for Light triumphing over the supposed evil of Darkness. He didn't get to be a real person because the world didn't _want_ a real person.

Draco looked across the table to the raven haired boy, sitting alone in the middle of the Gryffindor table. Granger had tried to sit beside him of course and Potter in turn pretended she didn't exist. Her tantrum in the hall outside of Defense after class ended probably had something to do with it. Now the boy sat, alone, head down, playing with the food on his plate. His face, when he glanced up now and then, was blank. His eyes were not. Bitter. Hurt. Draco saw emotions playing through them as clear as blood in a glass of water. The Gryffindor's eyes had the same look in their second year during the Heir of Slytherin business.

The only thing missing was uncertainty. That had been a prevalent emotion then.

Draco pushed his salad aside. He didn't know why the look in Potter's eyes was irritating him so much. Pale hands and long finger slipped into his pocket and brought out a stack of parchment, Draco place it on the table and tapped it with his wand to enlarge it.

_H_

_Stop looking at your goblet like you want to drown yourself in it. You're traumatizing the first year Hufflepuffs. _

_I think one just burst into tears._

_-D_

He folded it, slid the silver and gold snitch open, set it carefully inside and looked up.

"Oi! Darth Potter!"

Emerald eyes snapped to his face, startled amusement flickering over the once blank face. Potter's tan hand reached out and caught it when Draco threw it at him. Another moment and the snitch flew back his direction. He caught it and flipped it open, pausing only to cast a stinging hex in Theo's direction when the over-curious wizard tried to sneak a peek at the note.

_D_

_Merlin forbid I deprive you of your favorite form of writing desk._

_-H_

His lips twitched upward. Draco snapped his fingers and held out his hand. Some lower year gave him a quill. He would never get tired of that.

Draco looked up from the note when he felt Theo stand. Lunch was over. He shrunk the rest of the parchment and put it in his pocket, stood and made his way to the doors. Potter was there just slipping through. With a smirk he raised his voice. "Think fast Potter!" The smaller boy turned and just managed to catch the snitch before it was about to slam into his face. The Gryffindor shot him an annoyed glare. Draco mimed opening it.

_H_

_I am pleased to see you understand the gravity of the situation. _

_Having to chase down second years, who have learned to hide, would be an unnecessary expenditure of calories._

_-D_

_Post Script: Your penmanship offends. Who taught you to use a quill?_

Potter's face twitched, a reluctant smile drawing across it. He gave Draco a dramatic eye roll, put the snitch in his pocket and continued out the doors. Spiked brown hair came into his line of vision.

Draco turned to see Theo standing beside him giving him a shrewed look. "What are you doing Drake?"

He thought up and examined different answers to that question. With a slight upward pull of his lips, that was certainly a sneer and not a small smile, he decided on the truth.

"...Throwing things at Potter."

Draco walked out and into the hall, ending that line of conversation, Theo following along. He had a study period next, maybe he should check out a book on Magickal Alignments and Forms of Magick for Granger. A head of him on the stairs Potter tripped spectacularly, the frantic flailing windmill of his arms in a fruitless effort to maintain his balance coaxed involuntary laughter from even the stoic Blaise. The tall, dark Italian stood to Draco's left, a hand over his mouth, eyes politely averted, trying to hide his mirth. Honestly, how anyone could really believe Potter was an evil mastermind was beyond him.

A ginger blur pushed passed him, knocking Draco into Blaise and Theo into a Ravenclaw. The four of them glared at his back.

"Harry."

Potter stiffened. "Ron." He greeted, his voice dripping with a lack of enthusiasm.

The freckled idiot, unaware of his walk toward danger, stomped up the stairs.

"Just because you're upset with me doesn't mean you get to take it out on Hermione. She was only trying to help the other day. Making her look stupid in front of everyone because your_ sensitive spirit is offended_ isn't very Gryffindor. She grew up with muggles, you know she doesn't understand this alignment stuff, it was...vindictive...to do that."

"Big words."

Weasley shuffled his weight on his feet aggressively. "See? That. What the hell_ is_ that? Why are you acting like a stuck up pureblood?"

Potter didn't seem interested in talking to the Weasel. He turned and resumed his progress up the stairs. Weasley latched onto his shoulders and spun the smaller boy around.

"_Quit walking away from me!_ Quit ignoring me I'm _sick_ of your attitude."

Potter smiled. Fantastic.

The shorter Gryffindor tilted his head slowly, face pleasantly innocent.

"For someone who doesn't want to be treated like a dog you're certainly whining like a kicked puppy."

Weasley reeled back as if Potter had hit him. "You don't get to talk to me like that!"

Potter took a step forward. "Like what?"

"Like you're bloody Malfoy!"

"Do you want to know why you always lose those little insult battles you get into with Draco?" Potter smiled. Again.

His eyes flickered over to where Draco was standing.

"It's because everything he says is true. He talks about your financial status and social status and quotes things other people have said about you and your family. He doesn't make anything up just to piss you off, like you do to him, he just says the truth. He doesn't care enough about you to sit around making up witty insults for the next time he sees you."

Everyone in the hall was quiet, watching. No one made a move to separate them or stop Potter. They just watched, the way you see a horrible accident about to happen in potions and can't help but watch it play out.

"You're poor and low class and you've got an insane amount of siblings. That partnered with your father's low paying job makes it hard for your family to get by. All true. It isn't really anything to be ashamed of, but it's true. The things you say about him are not, and that is why it rolls off of his back. If you didn't hate yourself and your life as much as you do these things wouldn't bother you as much as they do, but you can't stand your life and you're unhappy with yourself. You're petty, you're jealous, you're insecure and you're even, at times, callous."

The red head let out a small growl. "If you think so little of me maybe we shouldn't be friends."

"We aren't." Said Potter, in a soft unhappy voice.

"...What?"

"We aren't friends. I can't call you a friend when you aren't acting like one. I don't have to be the _soundboard_ for your problems or the_ punching bag_ for your emotions or the _doormat_ for your ego. That's not my job. And you don't get to make a joke of my emotions or my problems. Maybe you can't understand them, you know? You certainly can't relate. I understand that. But my fears and my insecurities and shadows and my skeletons are _worthy._ You don't get to make light of them or belittle them or gloss them over just because you're more interested in your _own_ or because you're feeling especially hateful of yourself that day and need an outlet to make you feel better about yourself. Friends don't_ do_ that. I don't deserve it and I'm not going to tolerate it." He licked his lips and took a step backward. "You don't get to use me. You don't get to demand my forgiveness. I'm angry with you, I'm allowed to be angry with you and all I want is to have some time away from you. Additionally, just so everyone understands," he raised his voice, "the incident in Defense had nothing to do with you _your majesty._"

Snickers.

"I was asked a question and I answered it. Hermione didn't have to challenge it. She did and I answered again. The issue I have with her is unrelated to the issue I have with you, so stay the hell out of it." With a twirl of his robes Potter stepped around Weasley and left.

That night when Potter approached their table in the library Draco gave him a round of applause.

"_Veritaserum_ it is."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings**: Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

**AN:** The first time I posted this chap there were parts of it missing. I fixed it, sorry guys.

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><p><em>Well, I know the feeling, o<em>_f finding yourself stuck out on the ledge_

_And there ain't no healing, f__rom cutting yourself with the jagged edge_

_I'm telling you that, it's never that bad_

_Take it from someone who's been where you're at_

_Laid out on the floor, a__nd you're not sure you can take this anymore_

* * *

><p>Harry took a deep breath, pushed open the portrait and walked into the common room. He decided to act like he wasn't aware everyone was staring at him. It wasn't anything new, the staring. People were always staring. It was like being well known gave them a license to blatantly stare at you and eavesdrop on your conversations and demand to know why you've done what you've and where you've been. Being famous gave the world a false sense of ownership and it was one of the things Harry hated most about wizards and their world of magic. Of course the actual <em>magic<em> part of it did make it somewhat bearable. Knowing you could curse the hell out of any of the bastards making your life so _suck-tastic_ was a great way to start the morning each day. Just add in orange juice and you're all set for the day.

"Harry." He tried very hard not to scream aloud and just start ripping out his hair. He didn't think that would help with the current rumours going about. Apparently evil people were mentally unstable and shrieking while clawing at yourself didn't exactly shout 'perfectly sane, nothing to see here'.

"What do you want Ron?"

The red head stopped before Harry, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Harry might have gone overboard with the emphasis of just_ how much_ he did not care what Ron wanted.

"Do you think you can forgive me...for...earlier...?"

"You mean publicly shouting at and accusing me in the entrance hall in front of literally everyone?"

"Yes, er, that."

"Sure." He gave a bright smile.

Ron wrinkled his brow. "You don't sound like you mean it." No shit.

"When you are punished for your honesty you learn to lie."

"Would you quit it with that already?"

Harry pulled the loop of his bag from his shoulder and set it on the ground. This was obviously going to be another one of those conversations. Getting Ron to accept a truth he didn't like was like replaying a scratched record again and again and trying to convince it to just skip that one spot and finish the merlin be damned song. Harry was getting tired of this melody, he was tried of fighting with Ron, he was tired of telling him why he was angry. Sometimes you just have to let things go. Not say goodbye, saying goodbye always implies there can be a hello at some point later on. He just wanted to let it go and leave it behind and carry on. If Ron couldn't understand what he'd done wrong, if he wasn't just being prideful and unwilling to admit he was wrong but was truly stumped as to why Harry was upset...then how much of a friend was he to begin with? And didn't that just feel like a punch to the gut?

"Would you ask a question that makes sense?" Harry knew he pressing Ron buttons, but he was damn over letting Ron press his and doing nothing about it in return.

"Would you stop talking like a pureblood?"

"I don't understand. Why does it matter?" He cocked his head.

Ron spluttered. "Because, this, this isn't _you."_

He was right. Harry usually did whatever Ron wanted and never got offended and smiled and nodded and never seemed to mind. It was his fault really, for letting it go on so long. Ron was used to it being okay. But everyone had a bold line that other people knew not to cross and friends didn't dance across them deliberately and then demand your forgiveness. You can't forgive someone for something they weren't sorry for. That isn't how the system works. Ron wasn't sorry for what he did, he wasn't sorry for what he said, he wasn't sorry for bringing up something Harry would rather have left alone or for being insensitive or making light of a very bad situation. Ron was sorry he didn't have someone to talk Quidditch with when Hermione tried to make him finish his Herbology assignment, He was sorry he wasn't Harry Potter's best friend anymore. And that hurt.

"How would you know? After all I'm _so busy being locked in my room it's a wonder you ever get mail from me at all." _Somewhere to the right of him he heard Hermione gasp.

The taller boy growled in frustration. "Well I didn't did I? And you never tell me anything even when you're here."

"What was it you said?_ It isn't like I had anything better to do, so why couldn't I take the time?"_

Ron paled, suddenly aware of their audience. "This isn't the place-"

"For _what?_ Loudly talking about things that aren't anyone else's business? Yes I agree. Such matters should be spoken of in private."

"I said I was sorry!" Shouted Ron.

Harry shook his head. "No, you asked if I could forgive you. An apology was never given."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Harry countered. "Why are you sorry Ron?"

Ron ran his fingers through his hair savagely. "For...making you angry."

He felt his heart sink. "But not for what you did. Right?"

"What?"

"You're sorry that I'm angry with you," said Harry, slowly, "but not sorry about what you _did._ This is why I won't forgive you. You don't deserve to be forgiven. You don't mean it."

"Stop being so stubborn." Ron shoved him. Hard. His back met the closed door of the portrait. "I'm trying to help you, can't you see that?"

"How, by manhandling me?" He rubbed his shoulder irritably.

"You've heard the things people are saying about you Harry and hanging around with Malfoy isn't helping you."

Harry rolled his eyes, scooped up his bag and moved to go around Ron. Malfoy wasn't the issue, he was just another excuse for Ron to justify his actions. He wasn't trying to help him. Harry and Malfoy weren't even friends, apart from note driven dares their interactions were contained within the library and the classroom. Dueling in the halls not counting as conversation. It was a complex relationship and he wasn't awake enough to try to explain it. "I'm going to bed."

Ron grabbed him by the shoulder roughly.

"I'm not going to let them use you and hurt you for their own selfish reasons."

"No, you're perfectly capable of doing that on your own."

"Can't we...can't we pretend all of this never happened?" Asked Ron, in a strangled voice. It sort of felt like the world came crashing down on him, Harry reflected, to reveal a hidden world behind it. Harry wasn't sure he liked this new world. Things were so much easier when he pretended everything was fine.

"Yes, and we could pretend we're mermish princesses. That doesn't make it true."

"Stop making jokes!"

Harry smiled bitterly. "I apologize. I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain, it's a defense mechanism. I'm actually crying on the inside." And he was.

"Why can't we go back to the way things were? I want my best friend back, I want all of this to go away, I want you to stop being angry with me and hanging out with Malfoy and reading books instead of playing Snap with me."

"Life doesn't work that way. And if you really want to wake this_ particular_ sleeping dog, then the truth is that if you'd just learn to love yourself your life wouldn't bite so much to begin with. And then maybe you wouldn't _suck_ as a friend. These hurts? These grievances? You bring them on yourself. Those whispering words in your ear telling you you'll never be good enough? Those are your words Ron. You've hurt yourself and now you're determined to make the world hurt with you. Well I won't allow it. You don't get to bring me down there with you in your misery and vanity and jealousy. I have misery of my own that needs tending."

Ron exploded, causing several second years to jump. "Why not? Why can't you back to pretending you don't see these flaws? Why can't you just be happy and smile and be my friend again?"

"I don't know how else to get this across to you, Ron, so I am going to be very blunt. Okay? Acting happy is easy, being happy is not. Calling someone a friend is easy, being a friend is not. I'm not smiling because I'm not happy. I'm not treating you like a friend because you're not being one."

"You've changed."

He took in a deep breath, held it and let it out very slow. "No. The only difference between me today and me then is that I'm not pretending anymore."

"How can you hate me so easily?" Ron swallowed, looking very broken.

He walked around him, and headed up the stairs.

"I don't hate you Ron. It is not hate, it is only hurt that I feel. And after this I shall go to bed, I'll lick my wounds, which only bled because I gave a damn about you, and I'll seem to be over it by tomorrow. I've let it go, you see. I've cut the string that once attached you to me. You're free."

Harry slammed the door to the dorm behind him. The common room was still.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary**: Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: T**. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings: **Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

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><p><em>I got ice in my veins, blood in my eyes<em>

_Hate in my heart, love in my mind_

_I seen nights full of pain, days of the same_

_You keep the sunshine, save me the rain_

_I search but never find, hurt but never cry_

_I work and forever try, but I'm cursed so never mind_

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><p>The other students parted automatically when Draco made his way through the common room. They didn't even have to look anymore, it was an additional survival instinct they'd learned in the four years since he arrived, bodies shifting without thought, moving to the left or the right, bags were picked up and moved and chairs pushed aside clearing the path Draco had chosen. Conversations continued, none daring to engage him, none daring to bring attention to themselves. He felt a body take up rank to his left and another to his right, keeping pace with him quietly. Two smaller ones stood behind him and two large bulky ones made up the rear. The wall moved aside and they walked, slowly and with purpose through the halls, chin parallel to the ground.<p>

They weren't his friends, at best they were his closest associates, and the two he favored most, Blaise and Theo, even they stayed a good two feet away from him as they walked. Because Draco Malfoy wasn't a person. He was a symbol of the elite, the picture of the perfect pureblood heir, the future Lord of a noble house and their soul purpose in associating with him was to cultivate a non-violent working relationship to benefit them when they were older. These were children who wanted the added reputation by being seen with him, or by being remembered as his 'friend' in school. They wanted to have the connection to get spots in the Ministry or use his connections to garner them favours and potential allies. So Draco was all of those things. It was his job. He was to remember names and weaknesses and be The Malfoy Heir at all times, and Draco did and he was and he would continue to be. It came easy to him now, he'd been trained for this his entire life.

He couldn't complain about it, he knew he was lucky to have the money and name and connections and talents that he possessed, he was even smug about it. There were times when it was tiring, being a symbol rather than a person. There weren't many other people who could understand and those who could weren't usually people he was allowed to associate with, not even for the brief moment of shared understanding. It was his job to know everything about everyone and yet none of these people around him knew much of anything about him. The entire school thought he was unfeeling and mean and a snob. He certainly seemed that way, so why should they wonder?

It was utterly useless to think on it, there was nothing for it after all. This was his lot and he had too much class to whine. So he gathered these thoughts and feelings and locked them in to a box that he shoved in to a corner of his mind. He strengthened his walls and cleared his mask and he walked to the doors of the great hall- and stopped. And stared.

There was Potter, in his pajamas of all things, and they were horrid. Too large and faded and he looked ridiculous. The small Gryffindor stood on side of his house table, across from the group he normally sat with. The entire tables was filled, where there wasn't a person sitting there were book-bags or piles of books or conveniently placed feet. No one moved.

Potter wasn't looking at them though, he was staring directly at Longbottom, Finnegan, Thomas, Granger and Weasley.

"Very funny. Locking me in the dorm. Can I sit and eat please? I'll leave when I'm done."

"I think it's obvious if you're wanted here or not." That was the Weasel.

Granger's cheeks reddened, Draco could see it from here, she turned to Potter apologetically. "He's not being serious."

"_Are _you being serious?" Lavender Brown simpered, arm attached to the ginger.

"Actually, I _was_ being serious." He leaned over the table, staring up at Potter. "You're not wanted here."

Potter's face looked like it was on fire. The other houses were staring. One of the Patil twins, who'd taken to sitting with her sister at the Gryffindor table during meals, looked embarrassed but she didn't say anything, her sister looked like she wanted to crawl underneath the table for Potter and hide. That's what the boy certainly looked like he wanted to do. The rest of them were staring at their plates or their hands or the ceiling. Someone snickered. Then another. The picture of humiliation for one entire moment, a mask slipped into place for Potter. The boy turned and left out of the hall, very quickly. Granger stood and chased after him.

The Gryffindor table burst into laughter.

Draco stood there watching, far more surprised than his impassive face would ever hint at. He nodded at Theo who nodded back and led the rest of the group to the table. He knew, rationally, that it wasn't his place. He wasn't friends with Potter, they hardly went a day without fighting, with magic or otherwise. They had their conversations, secret ones, but they never brought them up after they happened. Regardless his feet turned and he was following after the to lions. Eventually he heard voices down a narrow hall. There in the middle he could see Granger,m just barely in the shadows, talking into a small cut-out supply closet. No doubt Potter had taken refuge there to try and be alone. Granger didn't seem to care what Potter wanted, if what she was saying was anything to go by.

"You brought this on yourself you know. You painted a big red target on your back, you really have no right to be so surprised they shot an arrow at it. You know what you need to do don't you? I know they shouldn't have done that and Ron really shouldn't have said...what he said." she winced. "If you want to fix this you're just going to have to suck up this bit of rebellion, whatever the cause of it, and go make amends. Laughs at their jokes. Insult Malfoy. Defend Ron. Agree with them. You're going through something right now, I suppose, but the rest of the world doesn't care to wait around for you to have an attitude adjustment and people like Ron don't have the patience. He will never admit to being wrong Harry, certainly not like this. You're not making it easy for him. So...so just suck it up. This is your life. You need to smile and get with the program."

Draco leaned to the side, Potter say with his arms wrapped around his legs, chin on his knees, eyes on the floor. "Be careful _friend_. I don't know if I'm prepared to forgive myself if I have to hurt you back."

"Hurt me back? How am I hurting you?"

"You're killing me with a smile and good intentions," green orbs looked up at her through inky bangs, "did you know?"

Granger was taken aback. "What?"

"You tell me it's for my own good. You think you know me better than I know myself and you think being my friend gives you the right to make my choices for me and to know my secrets and tell me what to do. You're forcing me to be someone I'm not and to hide the person I am on the inside. It's a subtle sort of murder but it's killing me all the same."

The brown haired girl looked distraught now. Guilt didn't sit well with her, Draco thought.

"Don't think about it too much if you can't stomach it. Everyone else is killing me too."

She didn't know what else to say to that, because she asked a question instead of countering Potter's claim.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Granger's voice rough and low.

"Because, said Potter, "sometimes we have to dare to be ourselves, no matter how frightening or strange that self may prove to be. Both in my case."

"I hope it's worth it." She probably meant it.

Granger turned and walked down the hall. Draco stepped back and let her pass, letting out a breath when his presence went un-noticed.

"Malfoy?" Or not.

Draco took a step forward into the limited light of the only candle along this hallway. Potter sat just as he had before, to the right of the small supply cupboard, on the floor. His pajamas were probably getting really dirty now. Not that it made much of a difference with clothes like that.

Potter looked up at him. "It's strange I guess. They're my friends. But everything I'd like to talk about I can't say to them. I feel so separate, like I've touched something that's taken all the colours out of these things I used to belong to. I can't even pretend to see them anymore."

Draco took that as an invitation and stepped forward into the storage cupboard. It was very small, it was good Potter was as well. Draco could barely stand upright in it. "How do you feel about that?" He asked, feeling like a mind healer. He was a bit out of his depth here. Malfoy training didn't include consoling rivals.

"I'm wondering if it's best if you don't have anyone you care about. Then there isn't anyone to hurt you, is there? You don't have to be afraid of losing someone if you haven't anyone to lose."

Draco slid down the wall across from him, knees bent in the small space. "Yes. But then you have nothing."

"That's what I had to being with. It's comfortable. I don't know that I mind going back."

"You do mind. If you didn't you would have done it the first time you had the opportunity. You would have certainly done it second year. But you didn't, you chose to keep caring. There must have been some reason. You must have thought it was worth it." Draco tried. He was a little alarmed.

"It isn't that I thought it was worth it, it's that I wasn't willing to go back to nothing. This pain was something, even if it was pain, and anything was better than nothing. But now...now I miss nothing. I don't want to hurt anymore."

"Nothing is over-rated. It keeps your head clear and it keeps people at a distance but you'll never be happy. You can't be happy when you have nothing. Awards and galleons and large houses with empty rooms can never fill the spaces inside of us that ache against our will. Some of us choose this path. You don't have to be one of them."

He shifted, looking away from Draco. "You seem fine with it."

Draco stared. "What."

"You're enveloped in ice Draco. Even if someone wanted in, they'd have to dig through layers of _solid _ice. It's been there so long I wonder if you've ever known a day without it. The walls of ice." Hesitant eyes met his face.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

He put a small tan hand on Draco's arm, looking away again. "Yes I do. I can see it. You've been this way since the day I met you."

Draco forced a laugh. "You sound so reasonable for someone who's just been thrown out of their house and ridiculed in front of the school. Why don't you get angry? You should hit a wall or something."

"I did."

He swallowed. "Ah, my walls of ice you mean."

Potter nodded.

And then Draco felt the start of a very tiny crack in his mask.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating**: T. For now.

**Characters**: Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings**: Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>In my world Percy decided to deal with the history of ancient wizarding laws and regulations, rather than bow his head as a Ministry lackey. He's at Hogwarts working in the archives under the library, he helps do rounds, assists in classes and resides over detentions in exchange for the access. Percy's got his own room at the castle while he's doing his research. You'll be finding more about it later on but since he makes his appearance here I thought I'd give you a brief heads up about the change.

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><p><em>What doesn't kill you makes you wish you were dead, got a hole in my soul going deeper and deeper<em>

_And I can't take one more moment of this silence, the loneliness is haunting me_

_And the weight of the world is getting harder to hold up_

_It comes in waves, I close my eyes, hold my breath and let it bury me...I'm not okay and it's not alright!_

_Who will fix me now? Dive in when I'm down? Save me from myself?_

_Don't let me drown..._

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><p>His back was sore. Who knew sleeping on the couches for two nights in a row wouldn't agree with you? Harry pulled himself to a sitting position with a groan. He'd found out the reason he wasn't able to get out of the dorm, and the reason he couldn't find any of his things, was because all of it was piled against the door in the hall. Two nights of bringing everything in and putting it away only to have to find a way out of the dorm and retrieve his things apparently got boring for everyone else. Last night and the night before he'd been locked out of his dorm rather than in.<p>

He glanced at his watch, he had time to get a shower and get down to breakfast before most of his house woke up. Or he would have of the door to the showers weren't locked. He took a step back and deep breath along with it. Fine. He'd just wash up in one of the bathrooms near the great hall. It was fine.

In a bit of highly unlikely luck, which pretty much was the story of his life, Ron's older brother ran into him just outside the portrait.

"Don't you usually shower now? You're always down at breakfast about a half hour from now..._why are you in your pajamas again?_ " His brow furrowed.

"Turns out, it's easier to do when you're allowed access to the showers. Just pretending to soap up doesn't do much, and actually stripping down and taking a sponge-bath in the common room, which is incidentally the only area of the tower I now have access to, seems like a good way to get into a lot of trouble."

Blue eyes glittered briefly. "Done that before have you?"

"I've thought about it. You know, just for the kicks. You only live once and all that jazz."

"Right, well we can't have fourteen-year-olds stripping whenever they feel like it. The world will wonder just what sort of school this is. There isn't even a high amount of Veela to use as a scape goat."

Harry tsk'd. "Tis a shame."

Percy glanced around the hall. "This way."

"Where are we going?"

"I have a key to the Prefect's bathroom. You can use it. It's better than the showers anyway. You won't miss them."

Harry glanced up at the taller boy shrewdly as they walked.

"How is it you've still got a key?"

"I...might have made a copy while I had the chance."

"Just so you could take a bath whenever you happened to be at the school?"

Percy cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Oh. I see, you just wanted to see all of us hot teens un-clothed. Devious."

"And here we are!" Said Percy, his voice a bit higher, face red. He waved his wand and stepped through a floor length mirror.

Harry blinked, glanced around then followed him through. A red door was the only thing in the small room he found himself in. Percy unlocked it with the key and pushed it open.

"This is actually not in use anymore. It's functional, and there are students with keys...it's just a secret. You can get a copy made from the Slytherins if you're willing to do them a favour."

"Look at you go Percy, breaking and entering, working the Hogwarts black market, consorting with Slytherins..."

The older boy stammered a bit then left. Harry was still laughing when he slipped into the giant bath. Unable to resist he turned the knobs on all of the faucets and let the bubbles and water and oils go until the pool that called its self a bath tub was filled. Bubbles were everywhere. Harry loved it. The loud rushing sound. It could almost cover up the voices in his head, like white noise, he could almost drift away in it. Arms out he twirled up and down the steps leading to the bottom of the pool, the watering swirling around his waist, bubbles flying.

He spun.

_"You're not wanted here."_

He spun.

_"I think it's obvious."_

He spun.

_"Why can't you just be happy and smile?"_

He spun.

_"You're not wanted..."_

He lost his balance and when he flung out a hand to grasp the edge he felt nothing but water. His feet lost the bottom and he snapped his eyes open. The middle of the pool. After that moment of genius deduction his body promptly betrayed him by sinking like a rock. He thrashed, wishing he'd bothered to learn to swim, dying in bath tub was a stupid way to die.

Something pulled him up and pulled him forward until his feet touch tile again. He spit out water, rubbed at his eyes and opened them again.

"Of course you're the one to find me like this." He muttered.

"You idiotic Gryffindor, what are you doing the Prefect's bathroom?" Malfoy demanded, lowering his wand.

"...drowning?"

"Can't you do that in your own bathroom?"

Harry flashed him a cheeky grin. "Yes but then who would rescue me?"

The blonde stepped closer to the rip of the pool, slipped off his shoes and sat on the edge, his feet dipping along the first step. He looked at Harry then looked over to his clothes, pajamas and book-bag by the sinks, then back to Harry. "What's going on Potter?"

Harry sank lower in to the bubbles, ignoring him.

"I have all day. All of my assignments are finished, I can have Theo turn them in for me and vouch for my illness."

"Fine. They kicked me out alright? I can handle it."

"Kicked you out?" he knew, without looking, Malfoy would be playing with the small wisp of hair that always fell out of the gel and hung by his left eye, "I thought they were just being symbolic."

Harry shook his head. "Not so much. They've made it pretty clear I'm not welcome even in the dorms."

"What are they doing?"

He leaned against the nearest edge of the pool, looking anywhere but at the Slytherin. "When I wake up in the morning all of my stuff is gone and I'm locked in. I figured out that my stuff is what was blocking the door, they piled it all in the hall. The last two nights I was locked out of the dorm, which I suppose was a nice change of pace. I slept in the common room. When I got up to take a shower I'd been locked out of that too."

"Ah yes, there's nothing quite as refreshing as contempt."

"It doesn't matter."

Harry jumped when a pale hand was suddenly in his face. He looked up to see silver eyes looking down at him. "What?"

"Come on."

The hand grabbed his arm and pulled him from the tub. Harry yelped, embarrassed. "Draco!"

The blonde didn't reply, simply dragging him to the changing room, pushing him in and tossing him a towel. "Get dressed."

What to do? Bury his face in the towel in mortification, or keep it precisely where it was because Draco watching him impatiently? Tough call. "I, er, need clothes." He pointed past the blonde to the robe and slacks folded on the counter.

And of course Percy chose that moment to return. The older boy strode in, froze mid-stride and turned to them. His face flushed. Harry's did as well. "It's not what it looks like!"

Malfoy grinned. "What does it look like Potter?" His face the picture of fake innocence.

"Oh. So Malfoy _isn't _taking advantage of you?" Percy asked, face twitching in amusement.

Harry pondered how to answer that. Technically Malfoy _was _taking advantage of Harry's state of undress to get him to do what the Slytherin wanted, however he was pretty sure that _wasn't_ what Percy meant.

"You've caught me." A voice whispered much closer to Harry than before.

Harry blinked. "Wha- oof!" Malfoy swung Harry around and pressed him back against the stall wall. Harry tried very hard to spontaneously com-bust. It did not work. Malfoy, either oblivious or immune to Harry's wish to set himself to flame, took Harry's chin in his hand and stared deeply into his eyes.

"I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you."

Percy pulled him apart, rolling his eyes. "Alright, enough, would you two be serious?"

"Oh we're _very_ serious." Malfoy purred.

Harry face palmed.

"Merlin it's like another Fred and George. Harry, I've a place for you to..." Percy trailed off.

"Oh, it's fine. He knows."

"Right. Well I have a place you can stay until your house-mates decide being ignorant morons isn't as fun as it sounded."

He bit his lip, then smiled. Percy didn't have to do that, it was surprisingly nice. "Thank you."

"Let's see this new place of yours." Sniffed Malfoy, he was obviously looking forward to telling Harry everything that was wrong with it. The blonde and Percy walked out the door. Harry stood there, calm, and counted down in his head from five. They both walked back in.

"My clothes please?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary: **Rivalry. Noun. Plural: rivalries. Competition for the same objective or for superiority in the same field. Synonyms: opposition, antagonism, jealousy.

**Rating: **T. For now.

**Characters: **Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter.

**Warnings**: Moral Ambiguity. Obsession. Violence. Manipulation. Sarcasm as a weapon. Shady behavior. Sneaking around.

**Got Questions? **Put them in your review! If I can I'll answer them.

* * *

><p><em>Blame it on the work day, blame it on the weekend, blame it on the tic-tock moving too slow<em>

_Blame it on any old thing you want to_

_Don't want to wait 'til the sun's sinking, we could be feeling alright_

_I know you know what I'm thinking, why don't we do a little day drinking?_

* * *

><p>The room was large and filled with nothing but rugs, plush blankets, cushions and pillows of various sizes and three boys. After a short explanation of how the room worked, Potter paced in front of a bare bit of wall, instructed by Percy Weasley to think of something comfortable, since no one knew how long he would have to stay there. Potter took it a bit more literally then intended.<p>

"I almost wish there was a derivative of _Veritaserum _available...this isn't exactly a failsafe method you know."

"What do you mean?"

Draco rearranged himself on his giant cushion so he could see the other two.

Potter, who lay on his back and was staring at Percy upside down, gave an odd hand gesture.

"Are you attempting to communicate or is he meant to steal second?" Draco inquired.

Green eyes rolled. "I just don't think it's quite as effect as it's believed to be. For instance, the whole point of using it is to divine whether someone is guilty or innocent of whatever they happen to be accused of, agreed?"

"Yes." said Percy.

"Alright, well, what if they skipped any actual interrogation, the control questions and motivation and all of that, and just asked the straight question?"

"What about it?"

Potter let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling. "Okay here is a scenario for you. Imagine someone is asked if they killed someone else? And that person answers yes, not because they were directly responsible but because of an action or inaction on their part that allowed the death to occur? They _believe_ they are responsible, so they say yes. In this case, because it appears to be a confession, and you wouldn't normally assume someone confessing to murder was lying for kicks or something, might it be possible to assume the authorities will take that at face value?"

Percy sat up. "Skipping the _Veritaserum _and a proper trial altogether."

"Exactly. It's both true and not true, isn't it? They did answer the question honestly, they believe the answer they gave to be true, but they didn't give the answer the questioner was looking for. How would anyone _know? _For that matter, using the _Veritaserum _has issues. You can say 'Why did you push Mr Smith on to the train tracks?' And under Veritaserum one could say, within the confines required by the _Veritaserum _its self, that it was because their arms moved forward and the strength of their arms plus their velocity caused Mr Smith to fall on to the train tracks. Technically they _are _admitting to murder, but also, technically they _aren't. _It could have been an accident, but no one asked if was an accident, only _why it was done._ There ought to be a potion that still contained the compulsion to tell the truth without forcing you to give the _literal _answer to the question. Something that forces you to tell the truth as you honestly believe it to, not what you tell yourself you believe and not just answer exactly what you are asked...it allows you to understand what the questioner actually _wants_ to know so your mind can select the appropriate response."

Draco sat up as well. "That's... a good idea actually."

"Wait, how would you make this potion? The recipe for Veritaserum isn't something you can look up in the library or pick up at the local Apothecary. And those licensed to make it aren't going to give you some just because you promise, as fourteen year olds, you have no ulterior motive for it." Percy folded his legs under him and leaned forward.

The smaller Gryffindor chewed his lip. "Oh! We reverse engineer it."

"What."

"You know, we think about what it looks like and what it does and we try to figure it out from what we know, altering it as needed to suit our purposes. There's no law against that is there? Because we aren't trying to make _Veritaserum_, we're making something up."

They looked at Percy.

"What?"

"You're the resident barrister in training," he drawled, "so tells us. Is Potter's idea good or...?"

The red-head tilted his head and thought. "You are studying OWL level courses in school now, to prepare for OWLs at the end of next year, that's old enough to apprentice, and _they_ certainly experiment. You need a witch or wizard of legal age to observe you as you work, to give you a bit of supervision. The testing of a Potion's Master to _verify_ the use of your finished product would be required. And an Auror will need to be present anytime you administer it until its properly patented and of course if you're going to test it on minors. Since you'll probably be testing it on yourselves you'll definitely need one at some point."

Potter glanced at him. "Will this count enough as extra credit to please your Godfather?"

"I should say so."

Apparently the room sensed their desire to begin straight-a-way. Bookcases started lining the far wall, shelves lining the wall to their left and a long table and brewing station came to being in the far corner.

"Wicked."

"Hold on." Draco eyed the Weasley boy for a moment. "You act as a sort of quasi-teacher's aid sometimes, will that inhibit you from helping us? Because I refuse to do all of this work and then get a _zero."_

Percy smiled. "I haven't once been told not to help the students cheat."

"Good enough for me."

"Are these bare elements?" Potter stood by the shelving, examining small jars.

"What?"

"That's becoming a catchphrase." Muttered Percy.

Harry turned with a jar in his hand, "I'm holding Sodium immersed in Kerosene."

Draco and Percy half-tackled one another to get to Potter.

"No bloody way."

"Are we certain there's no known ingredients for _Veritaserum? _Because this is potentially dangerous, playing around with this stuff."

Draco was to busy calculating the galleons in Harry's hand alone to answer.

Percy cleared his throat. "All that I know off the top of my head, is that _Veritaserum _is a clear liquid, not easily distinguishable from water, including its lack of a taste or smell."

"Is Water, Magic and Vodka out of the running?"

The older boy patted Potter on the head like a pet. Potter scowled.

"Actually..." Draco trailed off, flicking through ingredients and side effects in his head. "Ethanol is useful for affecting the _anterior cingulate cortex."_

Potter's eyes lit up. "And impaired judgment can help with a compulsion to create a knee-jerk response to answer questions before thinking about it."

"Yes and that wouldn't give them enough time to colour their response with personal bias."

"They'd give the response they actually believe."

Percy frowned. "Guys?"

"A blood alcohol content of point-oh-four can impair judgment." Potter recited, tapping his fingers against his arm, pacing. Draco decided to wait to ask him how he knew that.

"_And_ your ability to realize you've said something that maybe you shouldn't or wouldn't want to say normally."

"Yeah, exactly."

"_What does that mean?" _Percy interjected.

Draco huffed. "It _means_ we're temporarily switching off the part of brain that says 'oops' and lets you know you made some sort of a mistake."

"We need more than that though. We need something with Sedative properties, like with _Amortentia _remember? That sort of relaxes you and makes it so you don't realize you're doing something you don't want to. More than just suppressing judgment, we want them to want to tell us, we want them not to wonder why were asking the question."

"Guys?"

"Crushing up muggle pills will make it thick, and using similar potions will colour it."

Potter nodded, "We don't want that anyway. We ought to use plant extracts. That will be easiest to prevent colouration and it won't noticeably thicken the end substance."

"Guys?"

"Alright," Draco flickered through his memory quicker, bringing up possible ingredients_, "Nightshade, Henbane, Datura, Angel's Trumpets_-"

"_Corkwood_." Potter called, small jars in his hands, looking through the ingredients.

"Guys!" Percy looked between them. "I want you both to know, I have no idea what you're doing. Why do you need to control their judgment why not just-"

Draco waved a hand. "I understand that abstract concepts are foreign to you, but big boys are talking right now and you need to be quiet." Percy pouted.

"Not too much on the sedative side, we don't want the blatant glazed look." Potter placed his jars on the table.

"Agreed. If we're going to test it out, we can't have anyone aware."

"Wait a minute boys, I can't let you walk around experimenting on your fellow students."

"Fred and George do it all the time." Potter pointed out, crossing his arms petulantly.

"And how many people end up going to the hospital wing?"

"Er...a fair few."

Draco scowled. "Can you_ be _anymore Lawful Good?" He was disgusted.

"Oh, he isn't." Said Potter slowly, a smile blooming over his face. "Percy if you tell anyone what we're up to I shall tell Professor McGonagal that you retain a key to the old Prefect's bathroom in order to spy on us poor innocent children. That will in turn get it sealed off and I imagine the Slytherins will be displeased," he paused, "And I'll owl your mother."

The Red-Head's face flushed, he cleared his throat and averted his eyes, making a 'carry on' motion. "What are you guys going to do about flavour?"

They turned and looked at the older boy, then each other. The Gryffindor tapped his mouth, "I guess we could always get creative. You know, mix a bit, whatever the best amount is, into ice cream or tea or candies..."

Draco wrapped his arms around Potter and squeezed him tight.

"Oomph!"

"If I said I think I love you, even though half the time I can't stand you, and honestly enjoy hexing you whenever the opportunity presents its self, would you take it the wrong way?"

"Don't worry Draco, I know you're just using me for my mind."


End file.
